The Chimes
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Level 3

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Goblin1 Story of Some Bells that

Rang an Old Year Out1 and a New Year In
Charles Dickens

‘What man can do, _ I _ do,’ pursued Sir Joseph. ‘I do my duty as the Poor Man’s Friend and Father; and I endeavour to educate his mind, by inculcating on all occasions the one great moral lesson which that class requires. That is, entire Dependence on myself. They have no business whatever with — with themselves. If wicked and designing persons tell them otherwise, and they become impatient and discontented, and are guilty of insubordinate conduct and black-hearted ingratitude; which is undoubtedly the case; I am their Friend and Father still. It is so Ordained. It is in the nature of things.’

With that great sentiment, he opened the Alderman’s letter; and read it.

‘Very polite and attentive, I am sure!’ exclaimed Sir Joseph. ‘My lady, the Alderman is so obliging as to remind me that he has had “the distinguished honour” — he is very good — of meeting me at the house of our mutual friend

Deedles, the banker1; and he does me the favour to inquire whether it will be agreeable to me to have Will Fern put down.’

‘_ Most _ agreeable!’ replied my Lady Bowley. ‘The worst man among them! He has been committing a robbery, I hope?’

‘Why no,’ said Sir Joseph’, referring to the letter. ‘Not quite. Very near. Not quite.

He came up to London , it seems , to look for employment

He came up to London, it seems, to look for employment1 (trying to better himself — that’s his story), and being found at night asleep in a shed, was taken into custody, and carried next morning before the Alderman. The Alderman observes (very properly) that he is determined to put this sort of thing down; and that if it will be agreeable to me to have Will Fern put down, he will be happy to begin with him.’

‘Let him be made an example of, by all means,’ returned the lady. ‘Last winter, when I introduced

pinking and eyelet-holing

pinking and eyelet-holing1 among the men and boys in the village, as a nice evening employment, and had the lines,

O let us love our occupations, Bless the squire and his relations, Live upon our daily rations, And always know our proper stations,

set to music on the new system, for them to sing the while; this very Fern — I see him now — touched that hat of his, and said, “I humbly ask your pardon, my lady, but _ an’t _ I something different from a great girl?” I expected it, of course; who can expect anything but insolence and ingratitude from that class of people! That is not to the purpose, however. Sir Joseph! Make an example of him!’

‘Hem!’ coughed Sir Joseph. ‘Mr. Fish, if you’ll have the goodness to attend —’

Mr. Fish immediately seized his pen, and wrote from Sir Joseph’s dictation.

‘Private. My dear Sir. I am very much indebted to you for your courtesy in the matter of the man William Fern, of whom, I regret to add, I can say nothing favourable. I have uniformly considered myself in the light of his Friend and Father, but have been repaid (a common case, I grieve to say) with ingratitude, and constant opposition to my plans. He is a turbulent and rebellious spirit. His character will not bear investigation. Nothing will persuade him to be happy when he might. Under these circumstances, it appears to me, I own, that when he comes before you again (as you informed me he promised to do to-morrow, pending your inquiries, and I think he may be so far relied upon), his committal for some short term as a Vagabond, would be a service to society, and would be a salutary example in a country where — for the sake of those who are, through good and evil report, the Friends and Fathers of the Poor, as well as with a view to that, generally speaking, misguided class themselves — examples are greatly needed. And I am,’ and so forth.

‘It appears,’ remarked Sir Joseph when he had signed this letter, and Mr. Fish was sealing it, ‘as if this were Ordained: really. At the close of the year, I wind up my account and strike my balance, even with William Fern!’

Trotty, who had long ago relapsed, and was very low-spirited, stepped forward with a rueful face to take the letter.

‘With my compliments and thanks,’ said Sir Joseph. ‘Stop!’

‘Stop!’ echoed Mr. Fish.

‘You have heard, perhaps,’ said Sir Joseph, oracularly, ‘certain remarks into which I have been led respecting the solemn period of time at which we have arrived, and the duty imposed upon us of settling our affairs, and being prepared. You have observed that I don’t shelter myself behind my superior standing in society, but that Mr. Fish — that gentleman — has a cheque-book at his elbow, and is in fact here, to enable me to turn over a perfectly new leaf, and enter on the epoch before us with a clean account. Now, my friend, can you lay your hand upon your heart, and say, that you also have made preparations for a New Year?’

‘I am afraid, sir,’ stammered Trotty, looking meekly at him, ‘that I am a — a — little behind-hand with the world.’

‘Behind-hand with the world!’ repeated Sir Joseph Bowley, in a tone of terrible distinctness.

‘I am afraid, sir,’ faltered Trotty, ‘that there’s a matter of ten or twelve shillings owing to Mrs. Chickenstalker.’

‘To Mrs. Chickenstalker!’ repeated Sir Joseph, in the same tone as before.

‘A shop, sir,’ exclaimed Toby, ‘in the general line. Also a — a little money on account of rent. A very little, sir. It oughtn’t to be owing, I know, but we have been hard put to it, indeed!’

Sir Joseph looked at his lady, and at Mr. Fish, and at Trotty, one after another, twice all round. He then made a

despondent1 gesture with both hands at once, as if he gave the thing up altogether.

‘How a man, even among this improvident and impracticable race; an old man; a man grown grey; can look a New Year in the face, with his affairs in this condition; how he can lie down on his bed at night, and get up again in the morning, and — There!’ he said, turning his back on Trotty. ‘Take the letter. Take the letter!’